


I Really Don't Understand People Sometimes

by Somniare



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 08:25:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1503605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somniare/pseuds/Somniare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Monty thought it was a disgusting habit.  Tongues had a purpose and he was quite sure they weren’t meant to be shared.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Really Don't Understand People Sometimes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Barcardivodka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barcardivodka/gifts).



> A (very) belated birthday story for barcardivodka. I said I'd finish it one day. :)
> 
> A big thank you to paperscribe for beta reading.
> 
> All errors, typos and punctuation goofs are mine, all mine.

* * *

Monty was royally fed up.  As a cat, it was his right to be royally everything and anything.  Friday night and he was left on his own – again – and most likely would be until morning.  He knew Robbie wasn't working as he'd left the flat wearing jeans and carrying his small holdall, something that had been happening with increasing frequency, and not just on Fridays.  Until a few months ago, Robbie didn't really 'go out' at all apart from work.  Usually, he'd arrive home at some point in the evening, often with carry bags full of interesting things and James in tow.  _Oh, James._   If cats could sigh, Monty would have.  Instead, he squeezed his eyes shut.  He liked James.  His lap could be a bit bony, but Monty knew if he massaged it just the right way James would slouch down, and Monty could then nestle against James's warm belly and James would stroke his head and back.  With a half sneeze of annoyance, Monty sank further into the cushion.  He missed his nights on the couch with James.  
.  
.  
.  
The rattle of keys woke him.  Blinking slowly, Monty looked towards the sound.  Robbie was home.  But... Monty's head swivelled around to the window.  It was still dark, too dark for morning and breakfast.  This couldn't be good.  The last time Robbie had come home early, James had arrived within minutes to whisk him away again.  Robbie had later returned with the smell of death on him.  It wasn't Monty’s fragrance of choice, though it did set the little terrier next door off on an over-excited rant every time, and that was entertaining.  
  
He watched as Robbie dropped his keys and wallet on the small table and walked into the bedroom.  Monty stretched, rose, and trotted up the hall behind him.  He looked on from the doorway as Robbie undressed and dropped his clothes on the chair before pulling on his pyjama bottoms.  
  
Mrowr.  _Go out with James looking like that and you’ll be the one getting arrested._  
  
“Oh, hey you,” Robbie replied quietly.  
  
Mew.  _Uh, oh.  What’s happened?  Why are you home?_   Monty’s tail bristled.  Something very different was happening here.  Monty sniffed the air.  Wine.  Red.  But Robbie wasn't drunk.  And too much ginger.  Monty sneezed.   
  
Robbie switched on the bedside lamp and turned off the overhead light.  
  
Mrow, maow.  _Please don’t be sick.  I don’t like it when you’re sick.  James isn't here – who’ll fetch my breakfast if you’re sick?_  
  
“In or out, make your mind up,” Robbie murmured as he pushed his feet under the duvet.  Monty blinked once, took a few quick steps, and leapt lightly onto the bed.  Robbie sat next to him and started to scratch under his chin.  Monty ignored the usually pleasurable moment, flicking his head away, and gazed steadily at Robbie.  Patience wasn't one of Monty's great strengths, but if he thought there were secrets to be heard, he could be as patient as...  he could be patient.  He waited and hoped Robbie would reveal himself before breakfast time.  
  
Robbie sighed.  Monty's tail twitched in anticipation.  Then Robbie reached across, switched off the lamp, and slipped under the covers.  Monty resigned himself to a longer wait and took up his position on the other pillow.  
  
Lewis tossed restlessly.  His sighs worried Monty greatly, and the feline took it upon himself to examine Robbie more closely.  He nuzzled under Robbie’s chin and poked him with his paws.  Robbie gently pushed him away.   
  
“Go to sleep, Monty.  Leave me in peace.”  
  
If Robbie was sick, Monty decided, he’d be getting warmer.  Everyone knew that the body’s temperature could best be gauged from the ear or... Monty shuddered as he remembered his last visit to the vet.  Robbie’s head was more accessible anyway, and Monty promptly stuck his nose inside Robbie’s ear.  
  
 _Well!_   Monty beat a safe retreat to the armchair at Robbie’s roar of surprise.  Okay, it was a sharp gasp, but the upheaval when Robbie had sat bolt upright deserved to be accompanied with a roar.  
  
“Bloody hell, cat!”  
  
 _Cat?  Cat!  Of all the..._   Monty flattened himself against Robbie’s crumpled jeans as Robbie clambered out of bed.  _Oh, no, no, no, no, no._ Mro– __  
  
Monty’s protest was cut off when he was scooped off the chair.  
  
“If you can’t settle down, you can go out.”  Robbie’s growl was tired.  Monty knew when he’d overstepped.  His best course of action now was to go limp in Robbie’s arms and pretend to be meek.  
  
 _Out.  Out of the room ‘out’? Or out of the flat ‘out’?_   He’d never been put outside in all the time he’d been with Robbie.  Had he pushed too far this time?  Didn't Robbie understand he was concerned for his wellbeing, in as much as it was Monty’s wellbeing at stake too?  
  
Robbie gently tipped Monty feet first onto the floor.  Before he could turn around and sit down, the bedroom door was closed.  _Right.  Out of the room ‘out’._ This Monty could deal with.  He curled up against the wall with his nose to the gap under the door.  He could hear Robbie muttering about him – _how rude_ – and start to thump at his pillows.  _Ah, ha.  Not sick then._   Robbie never punched his pillows when he was sick.  Now he was assured about Robbie’s health, and the arrival of breakfast in the morning, Monty tucked his paws in tight and went to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Monty stretched and rose.  There was a faint glow outside the curtains.  
  
MAOW!  _C'mon.  Breakfast time.  Up you get._   Monty repeated his wake-up call twice.  Nothing.  The light was beginning to creep into the flat; it was time for stronger action.  He scratched at the door.  
  
WHOMP!  
  
Monty leapt back and considered the sound.  Pillow.  _If he’s down to one pillow, he’ll be up soon.  He can’t sleep with one._   His ears pricked up at the sound of footsteps.  _Yes!_   Monty turned an excited circle and sat down again.  
  
When he heard a soft sweep against the door and receding footsteps he sneezed in disgust.  _Back to bloody bed?  You’re not a cat.  You can’t go back to bed._ MAOW-OW-OW! _Feed me n-n-n-n-n-n-n-ow!_  
  
The bed creaked and, reluctantly, Monty settled down to wait a bit longer.  He briefly considered tracking some litter into the hallway in revenge; however, the last time he did that, Robbie cleaned up before feeding him.  Any further delays would be unacceptable this morning.  
.  
.  
.  
When the door finally creaked open, it was well after sunrise.  Monty thought Robbie looked terrible for someone who’d slept so long.  _Oh, dear Bastet!  He_ is _sick._  
  
Robbie shuffled past him to the kitchen and Monty stayed in the hallway where he would be out from underfoot.  When Robbie was in this state it was always best to give him room.  A kink at the end of Monty’s tail was testament to how that lesson was learned.  He didn’t move until he heard the scrape and clunk of the spoon against his bowl.At least breakfast had finally arrived.  _Ah, not too sick, then.  That’s good._  
  
Monty moulded himself around the corner of the kitchen cabinets, hugging them as he approached his breakfast.  Robbie was leaning against the worktop with his phone in one hand and a steaming mug in the other.  
  
Monty listened as he ate.  
  
“Yeah, it’s me.  Sorry to bother you on a Saturday.”  
  
“You doing anything later on?  It’s just... I was wondering if you’d like to come over for a bit.  Thought we could try a takeaway from that new Greek place you were talking about.”  
  
“You will?  That’d be grand.”  
  
“See you then.”  
  
Monty didn't like phones.  He particularly hated it when they lit up and buzzed their way across the bedside table in the dark, and he didn't like hearing only half the conversation.  He knew all about phones.  Robbie had told him all about this particular one when he’d first brought it home.  It was the oddest piece of fruit Monty had ever seen, and Robbie didn't seem fond of it either, but he kept it.  Humans did the most illogical things.  
  
So.  Someone was coming over, but who, and when exactly?  Monty hoped it would be James, but he knew it was most likely to be Laura.  James hadn't been by for weeks, except for brief stops in the mornings when he’d whisk Robbie away.  Yes, it would be Laura.  Breakfast eaten, Monty made his way to the windowsill where he could bask in the morning sun.  He closed his eyes and awaited Laura’s arrival.  
.  
.  
.  
When it had become clear Laura's presence was to be more than a passing phase, Monty had made an effort to befriend her.  After all, a lap was a lap, and if it kept Robbie happy Monty felt it was certainly worth it.  However, Monty couldn't understand why James had stayed away.  At first he’d thought perhaps Robbie and James had fought over Laura.  As the vanquished, it would be only fitting that James sought his own mate and territory.  But as Robbie left the flat most mornings with James, and it was obvious they were still friends, neither territory nor Laura could be the reason.  
  
And it couldn't have been due to a lack of space at the flat.  Laura was quite small in comparison to both Robbie and James, and Monty knew for a fact that James and Robbie together took up barely half the couch.  There was more than enough room there for the three of them – and him.  It didn't make any sense at all.  
.  
.  
.  
A sharp rap at the door startled Monty into wakefulness and he heard Robbie greet the new arrival cheerily.  Monty shivered suddenly and, though the sun had long gone from the window, it wasn't because he was cold.  
  
 _Oh joy, oh rapture!  It’s James!  It’s James!_  
  
Monty forgot himself for a moment and galloped to the door, to James who scooped him up.  He purred long and loud and didn't care who heard him.  
  
“I told you he was missing you.”  
  
“You did.”  James murmured the words against Monty’s head, and Monty was blissfully happy.  “But I doubt that’s why you invited me over.”  
  
“What?  You think I don’t care about Monty’s mental well-being as well as his bottomless pit of a stomach?”  
  
Monty wanted to be offended, but James’s long fingers under his chin felt so good he wasn't going to do anything to compromise that.  He’d missed this so much.  
.  
.  
.  
What was left of the afternoon passed in a drowsy blur for Monty, curled snugly on James’s lap.  He had no idea when James would be here like this again, and he wasn’t going to waste a moment.  They ate dinner sitting on the couch, with Robbie doing all the running around, leaving James to sit on the couch with Monty.  They hadn't talked much, they never did, but Monty had been aware of James growing anxious as the dinner things were cleared away and Robbie opened two more bottles of ale.  James’s pulse had gone up and he was a little twitchy.  It unsettled Monty to the point where he moved back to the armchair to watch them both.  
  
“We’ve called it off,” Robbie said unexpectedly, talking over the opening of _Top Gear_.  
  
Maow?  _Who?  Called what off?  How hard would it have been to expand on that comment?  Really?_  
  
“Why?  What happened?”  James was genuinely concerned.  
  
 _Wait?  You know what he’s talking about?_ Sometimes – no, make that most of the time – Monty wished Robbie and James didn't have this whole silent communication thing going on.  It was a little unnerving.  
  
“Ah, it’d been teetering for a while.  I think we both knew soon after it started that it wasn't going to last.  We’re still friends – at least, I think so.  I don’t know if you can properly go back to being just friends after...  well.  Thing is, it seems that’s all we were ever meant to be.”  
  
“How’s Laura?”  
  
 _What’s Laura got to do with this?_ Monty sat up and watched both men intently.  _Oh, for pity’s sake.  Will someone please clarify: what’s been called off?  
  
_ “She seems fine.  I was going to say it was her idea, but she simply voiced what we’d both been thinking.  ‘This isn't working, is it?  Not the way we hoped.’   Simple as that.  Didn't really need to say much more and Laura knows I'm no good at talking about this stuff, so she spoke for both of us.” __  
  
James nodded.  “I'm sorry.”  
  
Robbie sighed and stared up at the ceiling.  “Ach, no need for that, lad; we’re all right.  It’s not your fault Laura and I aren't meant to be together.”  
  
Monty stiffened.  _Laura and Robbie aren't together?  That’s why he came home last night?  Oh, not good.  Not good at all._   The facts were simple: Laura made Robbie happy.  No Laura will make Robbie unhappy.   _It’s not James’s fault.  Is it mine?  Is it because of me that things didn't work?_  
  
Monty thought back over the past couple of months.  He'd tried to make conversation with Laura, only for Robbie to 'shush' him, saying, albeit gently, “Be quiet now; you've been fed.  There're biscuits in the other bowl if you're still hungry.”  He’d also taken extra care to keep his claws and teeth to himself, and if Laura hadn't scolded him so sharply that time he, would never have been startled and torn her skirt.  Why did humans wear clothing with buttons and beads if they weren't for cats to play with?  
  
Admittedly, Monty had found it hard to maintain his good intentions.  While Laura's lap was lovely (she'd even discovered Monty's sweet spot, just below his left ear), he’d kept getting squashed between her and Robbie whenever they’d kissed.  Monty thought it was a disgusting habit.  Tongues had a purpose and he was quite sure they weren't meant to be shared.  
  
 _If it’s my fault, I have to make amends.  If Robbie’s unhappy, I’ll be unhappy.  He might forget to feed me like Dr Black did.  Or he might disappear for days at a time.  I can’t have that._  He leapt onto the coffee table, and bounced into James’s lap where he started to paw urgently.  _What do I do?  James, how do I fix this?_  
  
James scooped him up and Monty planted both front paws hard against his chest.  He didn't want to be smothered.  He wanted answers.  This had to be fixed  
  
Robbie lifted Monty from James.  “You’re all right, furball.  Nothing’s going to change around here, ‘cept me being home more often.”  
  
 _Furball?  Are you talking to–  Oh.  Nothing will change.  Not my fault then.  Well, thank Bastet for that!_   Disgruntled at being unnecessarily upset, Monty wriggled free of Robbie’s hold and stalked back to the armchair.  He glared balefully at Robbie and then meowed sharply.  _Next time you have a personal crisis, I’d thank you to leave me out of it.  Goodness, I thought I was down to seven lives then._  
  
Robbie looked at Monty and back at James.  When they both burst out laughing, Monty turned his back on them.  Such disrespect shouldn't be encouraged.

 

* * *

 

James ended up sleeping on the couch that night, the first of many nights over the following weeks, and Monty couldn't have been happier.  Gradually, life returned to how it had been before Laura had first appeared at Robbie’s flat, leaving Monty to wonder why he’d tried to replace James with her.  It was now quite obvious to him that Robbie and James were meant to belong to his pride, and Laura, while lovely, hadn't quite fit.  Monty was confident she would find her place, though.  She would make a wonderful pride matriarch one day.  No longer did Monty spend lonely nights in the flat, nor were his nights on the couch disrupted by being pressed between two bodies.  Life was good, very good.

 

* * *

 

At the sound of the key, Monty trotted to the door.  He timed his pace to be fast enough to prevent Robbie getting too far into the flat before he and James – _Robbie rarely comes home without James now_ , thought Monty, his purr deepening – could be properly inspected, but not so fast as to appear eager to greet them. Bastet forbid that should happen.  
  
A most welcome fragrance wafted though as the door opened.  
  
 _Oh, fish and chips!  Oh, it’s been weeks since they had that.  I’ll get tasty bits from both of them._  Monty chattered with joy and rushed forward.  He was going to eat well tonight.  He’d only been allowed carefully selected pieces from most other takeaways after that nasty incident with the Thai containers and James's new shoes.  Monty had thought they'd be pleased he'd avoided the carpet, but no.  Sometimes there was no pleasing humans.  A fish supper, on the other hand, was safe ground.  
  
“Look out, ya daft moggy!” came the cry.  Monty untangled himself swiftly from Robbie's ankles, the toe of Robbie's shoe narrowly missing his head.  Robbie was at an alarming angle but he hadn't fallen.  Monty leapt onto the worktop, out of harm’s way and looked over the scene.  
  
 _Ah, I see._  James had one arm around Robbie's waist and the other grasping his hand, holding him in an awkward, yet oddly graceful embrace.  The bags dangled loosely in Robbie's free hand.  Thank goodness dinner was safe.  
  
“Miaow!”  _Will you two quit staring at each other like startled kittens and hurry up with the food!_  
  
For reasons Monty couldn't understand, it took an unacceptably long time for plates and glasses to appear.  James would have done far better if he’d used both hands.  Robbie hadn't been in any danger of falling again yet James had kept one hand, sometimes both, on or near Robbie.  And Robbie hadn't helped the situation by getting his fingers tangled with James's every time he'd tried to take hold of James's wandering hands.  
  
When they finally sat down, both men appeared distracted and picked at their food, passing more to Monty than they actually ate themselves.  It was with regret that Monty had to stop eating.  He hadn't been so full for at least a week.  He started to wonder if Robbie or James, or perhaps both, had injured themselves when they’d become entangled.  Their behaviour was most peculiar.  
.  
.  
.  
On the couch, at last, Monty stretched out across their adjacent laps.  They way they always sat so close made this one of his favourite places.  Only one lamp was on, the small, soft yellow light making everything a little fuzzy at the edges.  A fresh bottle of wine sat on the table – a good sign, observed Monty.  That meant James was staying, and that meant scrambled egg and cheese in the morning.  Monty loved cheese.  After gently kneading James's thigh until he slipped into place, Monty settled his head down and went to sleep.  
  
A sudden movement woke him with a jolt.  _Mro–_ Monty found himself being compressed, with his bum bending around to meet his face.  What was going on?  He managed to twist his head around, looking up to see if Robbie or James could tell him.  
  
 _Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!_   MIAOW-OW-OW!  _What are you doing?  That’s not Laura!_  
  
Monty extricated himself and found safety on the coffee table, where he sat stiffly and watched Robbie and James as they kissed.  He shivered as he wondered where else their tongues had been.  _Well, that’s a turn up for the books – isn’t that what humans say when something unexpected happens?  Though..._ Monty considered everything he’d seen tonight, and leading up to tonight.  His head tilted in curiosity as he took in the sight of his two favourite humans, who were now slowly unbuttoning each other’s shirt.  _...is it really so unexpected?_ Monty would never claim to truly understand humans, but he knew happiness when he saw it; and if they were both happy, he would be doubly so.  Now, wasn't that all that really mattered?

 

**Author's Note:**

> Bastet was the Egyptian goddess of cats, protection, joy, dance, music, and love.


End file.
